Second Chances
by hannaharvelle
Summary: Jo Harvelle shows up on Bobby Singers porch one night and Dean is the one to open it. Old emotions are brought back, new relationships are formed, all while still trying to fight the Leviathans.
1. Chapter 1

_Almost 2 years, _Dean Winchester thought to himself while pressing a bottle of Jack Daniels to his lips. _Two whole _shitty_ years. _He'd thought about her everyday since the night she died. Golden hair, big, brown eyes, her small frame and the thirst to prove herself. There was something about Jo Harvelle that that had stuck with him.

Dean was never much of a romantic, nor did he like to admit his feelings, but the crushing sensation he'd felt when he realized that Jo was going to die that night in Carthage only assured his fears that he'd fallen in love. All his life Dean had sworn he'd do anything to not end up like his dad, bitter from losing someone so special to him, but when he walked into Harvelle's Roadhouse for the first time and laid eyes on Ellen's daughter, he was screwed and he knew it. Maybe he hadn't known that Jo would die, but he knew they could never have a normal, happy, apple pie life. That just wasn't in either of their cards with both of their parents being in the hunting life. He'd also had it burned into his mind that Winchester's just don't get happy endings, and they bring nothing but danger with them wherever they go.

The moment he saw Jo was the moment he forgot all of that. He fought the feelings at first, but their flirty encounters had always left him with more than just lust. Dean knew that if he ever had the chance of a normal life then he'd want it with Jo. He could picture their house, blue shutters, white picket fence, and a fully loaded garage for him to work on his baby. But that would never happen now because she'd sacrificed herself to save him and Sam's asses.

Every time his mind flashed back to their last moment together, he couldn't help but nearly break down. Their first kiss had been their last, and that broke him to pieces. Maybe if he would have manned up and told her how he felt before Carthage things would have turned out different. Maybe-

His thoughts were interrupted by a banging on the door. It sounded desperate and he heard a thud on the front step shortly after. He quickly moved his feet from the table and got off the couch to open the door to Bobby's place. What he found had his jaw drop to the ground. Laying there in front of him was Jo Harvelle. And she looked like Hell.


	2. Chapter 2

_Without further adieu, here's the second part of this Dean/Jo fic! I'm surprised I even got 1 review, let alone 4 or 5 on chapter 1. This is my first fic so bear with me through my troubles!_

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><p>"Sam! Bobby!" Dean cried out while he picked the blond up in his arms, carrying her to the couch.<p>

Sam appeared first. "What? What is it?" he asked, and then noticed who was on the couch. He looked to his brother, shock plain on his face. "You think it's really her?"

Dean met his younger brothers face, guilt written all over his features. "She looks just like she did..." but he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

Bobby finally came into the living room. "What are you boys yappin' about? I'm tryn'a..." his voice trailed off as Dean gestured to the couch and just who exactly was laying on it, unconscious.

"Dean, we still don't know if it's really her..." Sam started to say but Dean shut him up with a single glare.

"This is Jo. I know it, Sam, you've just gotta believe me," he pleaded and Sam resigned, giving him a look saying _okay, I trust you._

"Would anyone like to tell me what the hell's goin' on?" thundered Bobby, clearly annoyed with confusion. "You're not tellin' me that Jo Harvelle is back from the dead."

"Actually, Bobby, that's exactly what I'm saying," answered Dean. "Come on, it's not exactly unheard of around here. All three of us have died and come back!"

"Make that the f-four of us," a weak and small voice answered him. Three pairs of eyes were suddenly on Jo.

"Jo! What the hell happened to you?" Dean asked, more concern showing than he'd have normally let shine through.

"Uhh," she put her hands to her temples and closed her eyes. "Hell. And now... not Hell."

"Wait, wait, wait. You were in Hell? How?" asked Dean, clearly angry now.

"Hellhound tore my guts, remember? I guess once they touch you, you're pretty much damned," she explained with a bitter laugh, which turned into a painful cough.

"Get her some water!" ordered Dean to no one in particular, but Sam hurried to the kitchen and filled a glass with water bringing it back and handing it to Dean. He carefully lifted the glass to her lips, trying to subside the cough.

"Thanks," Jo managed in a shaky voice once she'd calmed down.

"Anytime," Dean told her, looking her in the eyes and just staring for a moment before Bobby cleared his throat. "Right, so, uh, do you know _how _you got back..?"

"Well..." she tried to find the right words but instead pulled down the right side of the waist of her jeans slightly, showing half of a hand print not unlike Dean's on his shoulder from the time Castiel pulled him from Hell.

"An angel?" It was Sam's voice that filled the silence accompanying Jo's action.

"Mhm," she nodded in response. "No idea _which _angel but it was definitely one of those bastards."

"Yea, and from the placement of that hand print I'd say he's a horny bastard," Dean muttered. Jo caught his eye after he said that and smirked a little. Was that... jealousy?

"Alright, well do ya remember hearing or seein' anything when they pulled you out?" enquired Bobby.

"A damn blinding light and some high pitched sound, like when a TV channel's off air? I think there was some whispering behind it but I couldn't make it out," Jo explained.

"Yea, definitely an angel," Dean nodded. "You have absolutely no idea who it could have been?" he asked, making sure.

"I don't know, I thought from where the hand print is, Gabriel or Balthazar..." she admitted. Dean gave her a funny look. "What?" she asked.

"Well, Gabe's dead, and Balthazar hasn't been around for a while, so why would he mess with us now?" Dean wondered aloud.

"Are we _sure _Gabriel's dead though?" Sam interjected. "I mean, we thought we'd killed him once before, who's to say he didn't Houdini his way out of it again?"

"He was killed by an _angelblade _last time, Sammy," Dean sounded a little annoyed. "He's gotta be dead," he tried sounding resolute, but his eyes were filled with ideas. Could he have escaped death again? It wasn't so out of the ordinary for it to happen in their line of work, everything was a possibility at this point.

"Okay, this is all really interesting, but in case you haven't noticed, I'm in no better shape than I was before I died," Jo said, a little annoyed.

Dean looked at her for a few seconds his face full of guilt at the mention of her death. He realized she was right, she'd been holding her side the entire time, blood was spattered on her neck and her hair was an unruly mess of waves – just like he remembered her. "Sure, right," he managed to choke out coming back from his reverie. "Anything you need?"

"Well, food would be pretty nice," she started, "Don't go through any trouble though, just gimme whatever's here, that'll be fine."

"I'll get on that," offered Bobby, quickly departing the room, leaving Sam and Dean in the living room with Jo.

Sam stood awkwardly as Dean sat on the coffee table in front of the couch, watching Jo carefully. She was fiddling with a string on her jacket, her eyes fluttering. Sam cleared his throat, "I'm gonna... help Bobby," he stated and hurried to the kitchen.

Jo looked up and caught Dean's gaze. "Sight for sore eyes, huh?" she said in her old fashion, with that same sarcastic smile that was burned into his mind. He chuckled lowly, resting his elbows on his knees and wiped a hand over his face.

"Well, you're lookin' good to me," he said with a small grin.

"You're only saying that in hopes of getting in my pants later," she rolled her eyes, a smirk playing at her lips.

He noticed the beginnings of a smirk, and his grin widened. Things felt almost normal, except that he couldn't help but doubt this was all real. Why would anyone bring Jo back? Last he checked, the angels weren't on his side, so were they just messing with him? Giving him false hope of a second chance just to rip it away again? "Do you remember it all? Or any of it?" he finally got out. The question had been plaguing him since she'd mentioned Hell and hoped she understood because he couldn't bring himself to say it.

"Hell? Yea..." she let the sentence hang and then spoke again. "I swear, it felt like centuries down there," she commented and Dean winced a little.

"Every month feels like ten years," he explained with a grimace. "You were gone for nearly two years," he continued in a quiet voice.

"So... I was down there for like, 200 years?" her eyes went wide. "Who in the hell decided to drag me out now? Couldn't they have done it I don't know, a _week _after I kicked it?" She was angry now. Typical for her to get angry over something like not being pulled out of Hell fast enough. Dean gave a short laugh and Jo shot him a look. "Mind letting me in on the joke, Winchester?"

"Nothing, it's just..." he trailed off, searching for an explanation. "You're still so... _you._" he half smiled.

Jo frowned a little but then met his eyes with a smile. "It's gonna take a little more than a couple hundred years of torture to break me down," she said with a smug look and Dean couldn't help but let his half-smile turn full.

"You always were tough," he acknowledged, to which she replied with a nod and a look saying _duh. _

"Yea, took you long enough to admit it," she scorned. He simply grinned at her.

"Hey, Jo..." Dean had started, about to tell her how he'd felt all those years, how happy he was she was back but he was promptly interrupted by Sam carrying in an open beer and a sandwich, placing both one the coffee table next to Dean.

"Not sure if you should really have a beer, but I figured if you wanted one, you wouldn't rest til you got it," Sam said, chuckling lightly.

Jo's face lit up as she saw the sandwich and laughed a little at his comment, immediately wincing at the pain in her side. "Thanks, Sam."

"Yea, no problem," he said and looked at Dean who was giving him a less-than-welcoming stare. "Sammy, can I talk to you for a second?"

"Uh... sure," his brother replied, walking to the kitchen with Dean on his heels.

When Dean knew Jo wouldn't over hear them, he started in on Sam. "Nice timing, dude! I was about to actually tell her how I feel!"

Sam gave him the 'uh-huh-you-sure-about-that?' look. "You really think _now _is the time to dump that on her? Dean, she just got back from _Hell,_ give her some time to adjust, man!"

"Well, when would be a better time? When we're about to die? Because let me tell you, I'm not doing that again. I'm not letting things get fucked up this time." Dean's voice was determined.

"Well, the right time isn't now, that's for sure. Let her rest up for a few days, hell she's still got that Hellhound wound!" Sam shot back, trying to stay quiet so Jo wouldn't hear them.

Dean looked down in defeat. Sam was right, it wouldn't be fair to unload this on her now, not right after Hell and her being in such bad shape. She was probably exhausted, he should let her rest. "Yea," he grumbled. "Yea, you're right," and as much as he hated to admit it, it was true. Dean Winchester had gotten girl advice from his little brother – and that was pretty damn shocking.

Dean made his way back into the living room after several minutes. Jo was asleep on the couch, half the sandwich gone. She'd barely touched the beer, but her glass of water was drained. She looked so peaceful, sleeping there. He picture waking up to her laying next to him looking exactly this serene but quickly pushed the thought away, knowing that he'd never have a life like that. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her upstairs to one of the spare rooms. He stopped in the door frame before leaving to look at her one last time and went back downstairs.


	3. Chapter 3

_Just a quick warning, things are very chick-flicky and cheesy in this chapter but I couldn't resist writing it like this for at least this chapter!_

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><p>She woke with a scream caught in her throat, covered in sweat. She looked around searching for the threat before realizing she'd only had a nightmare – a nightmare from Hell, literally. The pain, the torture, the look of Dean's face before they killed him over and over again right in front of her. She knew it wasn't real, but that didn't make it hurt any less.<p>

In an instant Dean threw open the door, gun ready in his hand. When he noticed Jo, he lowered it in realization. "Nightmare?"

She looked at him and nodded, biting her lip. "Yea, sorry," her voice was quiet.

Dean walked over to the bed and sat next to her. "It's fine, just gave me a scare," he explained. "So, uh, how bad was it?" he asked not knowing what else to say right now.

"I don't really know, but I could _feel _the pain," as she explained she winced. "How can I sleep when I know what's waiting every time I close my eyes, Dean? How the hell do you do it?"

His face turned pained, hearing her talk about her own personal Hell was terrible. "Usually with a few drinks. Doesn't help the nightmare's though, only keeps you asleep so you can actually get some."

"So there's no escaping it? Fu..." she started but stopped herself.

"They get more scarce after time, but at least once a week, I still get a bad one," he tried to make it sound like it wasn't so bad, but seeing her expression not changing continued. "You want something? Water, a beer, food..?" he asked.

Jo looked at him, processing his offer and thought for a moment. "Water's fine, thanks."

"Sure, I'll be right back," he said. He stood and walked out of the room, returning with an open beer in each hand, one for both of them. "One beer, as per requested."

"Thanks," she smiled taking one of the bottles from him.

"Hey, you need anything, just ask," he said, situating himself on the bed next to her and taking a drink of his beer.

She looked over to him and thought it was the perfect opportunity to ask him some questions. "How did you know it was really me? I could hear you and Sam talking, and you knew..."

"Somehow I feel like a demon wouldn't bang on the door and then collapse, wait to be brought inside and sit on the couch for a good five minutes before attacking. A Jo Harvelle, on the other hand would waste no time and use whatever energy she had left to get help no matter what." A smile appeared on his lips and he looked to her.

"Damn straight," she laughed lightly. "Okay, now what's on your mind, Dean? I can tell somethin's eatin' at you," she said, her face had turned serious.

He let out a sigh and took another drink. "Well, Jo, you were gone for nearly two years, and you show up just as you were before you..." he trailed off, hoping she'd fill in the blanks herself, because he sure as hell wasn't saying it, "You were passed out, and covered in blood, so I'm a little freaked."

"Sure that's all?" she asked a glint in her eye, like she knew a secret he was going to confess to.

"I... Well..." he cleared his throat looking away.

"Dean...?" she touched his arm and he turned to look at her again.

"Jo... What happened in Carthage..." she started and she quickly interrupted.

"It wasn't your fault," she said, guessing what he was going to say, but he shook his head.

"I'm not talking about what was or wasn't my fault. I was talking about just before me and Sam left... Jo, I meant that." He was staring into her deep brown eyes with his green one's.

She looked confused before she realized just what he was talking about. When he kissed her, of course. "Y-you did? And what exactly did it _mean?_" She wanted affirmation. No more assumptions from actions, she was looking for something to quote now.

"You're gonna make me say it, huh? Alright, Jo, I've got feelings for you. I have since we met, and when that Hellhound got you... I don't know, something just sort of snapped. And then you offered to sacrifice yourself... I wasn't leaving with a simple goodbye, I needed you to know, and I'm not so great with words or chick flick moments but... Basically what I'm trying to say is-" he was cut off by the feeling of Jo's lips on his. It was a soft kiss and only lasted a few seconds, but it sure shut him up.

"That's my way of saying 'me too'," she smiled. Next thing she knew, Dean had her pulled against him with his arm around her. She shifted so she could rest her head on his chest and sighed. "Can you stay with me tonight?" she asked in a small voice, feeling a little like a child.

"'Course I will," he said, squeezing her gently, making sure he didn't upset her injury. He liked that she'd asked him to stay with her. It made him feel needed, and had something worth protecting other than his brother and he'd be damned if he didn't protect Jo this time around.

"Hey, Dean?" her voice came after an extended silence, muffled slightly by his shirt.

"Hmm?"

"I lov..." her sentence trailed off and the sound of shallow, even breaths filled his ears. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

"I love you, too," his voice was a whisper.


End file.
